


moving parts

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Apologies, Cisco is Everyone's BFF, Cisco is Useless at Recognizing Gay Feelings, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Marlize Joins Team Flash, Pining, Tenderness, The Council of Harrison's Are Surprisingly Helpful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 13:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14545971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Cisco tries to pick up all the pieces. Harry helps.(Canon compliant up to 4x20)





	moving parts

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically just how i want this season to end and is super indulgent. there are several references to cynco. cisco isn't completely over cindy in this fic yet, but he's getting there.

There is something hypnotic in Marlize DeVoe’s shadowed voice. Cisco follows it through a fog, eyes squinting at the small illuminations of her explanations. This is how the world was to be reborn, she says, throat trembling and wet, and this is how the Flash was to usher it. This is how Harry struck the flame of the enlightenment.

This is how Team DeVoe wove electric pain targeted at Cisco’s brain in order to tangle his vibes and usefulness. Regret ripples from her tongue as she cuts open the process of cutting off his powers. Cisco can’t look at her as she describes it. Aches echo bomb like in his head, memories and the aftertastes of hurt from each time he tried to help his team, his people, his city. Her sorrow for it all would be easier to ignore if it didn’t scratch sloppy and well known at his heart.

He tries to dig his nails into the hurt, the rage and distrust, but he’s tired. His fingers sting the sharper he attempts to hold it.

“How do we know this isn’t another part of DeVoe’s plan?” Joe asks. His is a sensical and necessary suspicion.

“We can trust her,” Cisco says. He puts a palm over his heart, rubbing at the itch under his skin. A hand on his shoulder soothes it. His eyes dart to Harry, strong as he can be at Cisco’s side, and Cisco offers all his weakness in a smile. “I feel it. She wants to stop The Thinker as much as we do.”

When he finally meets her eyes, she nods. Grateful. Sorry. Raw and sore.

He looks away.

-

Cisco wants them to focus on putting Harry back together again, but Marlize and Barry override his vote. Getting Vibe back online is their priority. Marlize isn't sure when DeVoe will escape her trap, but she is adamant that Cisco is their best choice of tracking it. Caitlin is assigned Harry’s broken brain duty. Marlize will slip her lab coat on once Cisco can touch something related to DeVoe without a migraine lighting him up inside out.

It’s easy to focus on the centrifuge of guilt that is Barry and Marlize and the vibes rolling off of them in waves. Their hurt sloshes his brain around his skull. He can barely hear the breaks in Cindy’s voice or see her last clear, pretty smile over all of their regret. They drown the sounds of Harry's raised voice, of Harry's lies. They complicate Ralph's memory.

Working with them pulls his skin dry and tight. His fingers keep drumming against his thigh. A project this big without Harry’s shoulder bumping against his feels wrong in a fundamental way. He keeps slipping from his workshop to the med bay, checking on the non-progress Caitlin and Harry are making. Harry always lifts his head when Cisco comes in, smiling tight before scooting on the exam table, giving Cisco room to sit.

Cisco would rather be helping them. He'd rather be in the room with Caitlin and Harry, two people he’s trained himself not to unconsciously vibe on, working to heal Harry instead of connecting Cisco back to the powers that weren’t enough to keep he and Cindy in sync.

It would be a selfish distraction. Cisco has been selfish enough for one lifetime, but he aches to chase the diversion all the same.

-

Marlize hands Cisco one of Harry’s cardigans. He stares at it, hands curling to leech away any leftover body heat. Harry’s cologne and Cisco’s detergent still cling to it. Cisco doesn’t think about the comfort of their mingled scents, how it smells like home to him now. Instead he inhales the pain memory of Cindy’s perfume. He can’t feel it on the back of his tongue the way he once could, but that isn’t a recent development.

“Cisco?” Marlize says his name as if she’s been repeating it.

Cisco tucks his hair behind his ear with his free hand. “Sorry. Spaced. Did you think I needed to add something to my look today? Harry’s cardigans make me look like a hobbit, and it’s not cute, no matter what Caitlin says, so - ”

“I would like you to attempt to vibe it,” Marlize says. There is light on her face, brighter than any other time Cisco has seen her.

“Oh. Yeah. That makes more sense.”

She watches him expectantly.

“I don’t vibe on Harry,” Cisco explains, realizing she’s waiting for him to make the magic happen. He presses the cardigan back to her.

“Is there something with his vibrational structure that doesn’t allow you to? Since he’s from a different Earth?”

“I didn’t say I can’t vibe on Harry. I just don’t.” Cisco has a flash of his first attempt. Of Harry’s face whenever Cecile reads his mind. “He really isn’t a fan of people using powers to get into his emotional space.”

Marlize takes a step forward. It’s small, and slow, and brings her gently close enough for Cisco to inhale her. There is a musk that clings to her skin as pore deep as sadness.

“I am certain he would make an exception in this case.”

Cisco tongues his lower lip with a huff. “You don’t know Harry like I do.”

Marlize answers with upturned lips. There is no joy or peace in her smile. It hurts to look at.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I knew a man like him. Very well, in fact.”

“Harry’s nothing like DeVoe,” Cisco says quickly. His tongue stings under saying their names together. His bones burn even thinking of them in the same breath. Cisco pulls at the cardigan so hard he thinks he may rip it in half. “Don’t compare them. Don’t you dare - ”

Marlize lifts her hands, surrendering. “I don’t mean to suggest that the same megalomania and misanthropy fueling The Thinker motivates Harrison,” she says, voice soft.

The rage vibrating under Cisco’s calm curls back. It doesn’t quiet.

With a sigh, Marlize takes another hesitant step. Cisco tenses, blood freezing.

“The Thinker is not the man I married.” Marlize blinks, eyes narrow and wet. “My husband was a brilliant man. He was rough around the edges but his mind was clear. Beautiful. And it was not his intellect, not even his consistently low standards for human decency, that destroyed him. It was his hubris.”

“Harry was only trying to help.” The words whimper weak in Cisco’s own ears. He knows it’s the truth making his tongue heavy, but he can’t hear past Harry’s paranoia, the violence of Harry’s fingers curled in his shirt, pressing him into the equation board. “He only wanted - ”

“To make things better,” Marlize finishes. Her smile is ragged worn but kind. It pulls incessant at Cisco’s wounds. “As distasteful as it sounds to you, as even I realize it is now, that is all Clifford wanted as well. To save people. Harrison wanted to protect his family the same way Clifford wanted to enlighten the world. They wanted to rescue people from themselves. Clifford from the disease of technology, Harrison from the heroics that put you in danger.”

“That’s not,” Cisco says, frustrated by the sense that is suddenly stitching Harry and DeVoe together in his aching brain. “You’re twisting it. Harry was afraid for us, but not because he didn’t think we couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps. He does trust your ability as a hero. As a bright mind. And he would sacrifice his very soul to see you continue shining.” She looks at her hands, wringing her fingers, and Cisco notices for the first time the glint of her wedding ring. It blinds him. When he can see again, her hurt is all the more sharp against his vision. “Perhaps that is the difference between my Clifford and your Harrison.”

Cisco’s tongue cuts itself on his teeth. He wants to tell he that Harry isn’t his, but before he can, Marlize curls gentle fingers around his shoulder. It’s Harry’s spot. Cisco stares at her hand.

“Harrison is destroying himself to save all of you. Clifford succeeded in tearing his mind apart in his mission. I only want to help you stop Harrison from achieving the same. So please. Try. If my calculations are correct, you should be able to navigate the blocks Clifford - The Thinker - set to stop you from attempting to vibe anything in relation to our plans. You may even see something that can help us help Harrison.”

Cisco looks at the cardigan. He rubs his thumb along a button.

“You don’t have to call him The Thinker,” Cisco says, resolve settling over his skin the same way Harry’s touch settles over his shoulder. Sure and warm. “It’s just this dumb thing I do - ”

“I quite like the name, actually,” Marlize says, removing her hand. “It separates the man who has done… all of this, from the man who I married.”

Cisco focuses on the fabric in his hand. He closes his eyes, pictures Harry, his frown lines and chlorine gaze and the way his teeth shine bright white when he smiles with ease. Think of Harry, saved. Think of Harry, healed. Think of Harry, Harry, Harry.

The world splices from real time to pool water slow motion. Cisco sees Harry’s face - feels Harry’s touch - hears Harry’s breathing. It’s overwhelming. There is so much, so close, like he’s suffocating in Harry, but it’s more than that. There are - Harry is - and Cisco is in the middle of it all -

When Cisco opens his eyes, he’s gasping for air. Marlize is at his side, one palm between his shoulder blades, one on his chest, eyes wide. Her concern pumps livid and real.

“Cisco,” she’s saying, voice far away. Cisco watches her lips move and shudders. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” He pants it even as he’s not sure. His heart squeezes tight. He presses one hand over hers.

“What did you see? Did you see anything? Or were you hurt again - ”

Cisco shakes his head. “No. I saw something. Someone.”

“Harrison?” Marlize questions. “Cliff - The Thinker?”

“No,” Cisco says. He meets her eyes. “Lothario.”

Marlize’s hand falls from his back. “Who?”

Cisco is on his feet before she can ask anything else.

-

Lothario actually contacts Cisco first. It’s one of the times Cisco doesn’t regret giving him a communicator.

“A Council of Harrison’s,” Harry says, taking in the doppelganger's surrounding them in the Cortex. Harry looks at Cisco, as if he can offer any more guidance than an introduction.

“Apparently Lothario was asked to leave the Wells too,” Cisco says. “So he created...this.”

The Harrison’s give cheerful waves.

Harry glares.

“I hate them.”

The Harrison’s hands fall.

“Hey now,” Lothario says, moving between two Harrison’s, hooking his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close. They all wear the same grin. “These are fine, accomplished men in their own right.”

“How did you even find them?” Harry asks.

Lothario winks towards Cisco and he feels his cheeks ache hot. Something about Lothario makes Cisco’s stomach twist, slick and unpleasant. Maybe the leftover trauma from seeing Harry’s junk. But the memory of that doesn’t roll Cisco's stomach sick, although it does pull Cisco's spine taut. He doesn't examine it.

Cisco tugs at his own hair, refocusing his energy. He shrugs in Harry’s direction.

“He called me.”

Harry’s frown deepens, wrinkles carving canyons between his eyes. Cisco resists the urge to tell Harry jealousy is one of the few things that doesn’t look good on him.

“Why would my doppelganger be calling you, Ramon?”

“I heard he was going through a rough break-up,” Lothario says. “Since I was going through one of my own, I thought he and I could comfort each other.”

“Ramon doesn’t need your kind of comfort.”

Harry says it quick, firm, no room for argument. Not that Cisco would argue. Cisco does not, in fact, need Lothario’s whiskey slurred words about how they can make each other feel better.

Lothario only smiles.

“Harry, look,” Cisco says, stepping in between the line of antagonistic vision. “I vibed this. Lothario, and you, and them. I think they can help you.”

Harry crosses his arms and eyes him, wary. “How? Their brains are already mush. I don’t think they’ll be able to assist on mushing - mashing - on un-mushing mine.”

Cisco takes Harry’s biceps between his hands. His hold is firm. Harry softens instantly, skin smoothing pond calm, jaw unclenching. It settles low in Cisco’s belly. He’s never seen Harry gentle so easily for anyone else but Jesse.

“Trust me,” Cisco implores. “They can help you see how much more to you there is than a big brain, okay? And now that I can vibe on DeVoe again, Marlize can help Caitlin work on how to reverse the dark matter effects. You’ll be back to your old self in no time. And until then - ” Cisco releases Harry to make a vague, sweeping motion with his hands. “We’ll make some new friends.”

Harry’s gaze drops to his arms, where Cisco’s touch cupped him, and Cisco knows it doesn’t mean anything. He stares into Harry’s face, projecting every ounce of family and care he can. Harry meets his eyes then looks immediately away.

“Lothario is right,” Cisco encourages, earnest. “They’ve done amazing things that have nothing to do with particle accelerators or intelligence boosters. Let them show you how amazing you can be.”

He needs Harry to feel it, as close as Harry feels his loathing and shame, that Harry means more to the team than a Wells stand in. He’s not an algorithm, or a machine. He’s a beat in their heart. Cisco can’t figure out how to say it without sounding like he’s trying to convince himself that he’s more than a vibrating mass, touched only when he’s useful.

If Cisco can’t help Harry, can’t stave the infection from spreading from his ground down teeth to behind his eyes, then maybe the Harrison’s can. Maybe this Council can save both of them.

“It could be an adventure,” Cisco adds.

Harry lets himself smile. Cindy always tried to bite away her signature Cisco has said something dumb and sweet grin. But Harry, stunted and sputtering and emotionally clumsy as he is, hasn’t fought how Cisco makes him feel in years. Cisco knows that means something. Knows he has a solid, pulsing part of Harry’s heart. He can feel it without his powers, stronger than any flutter he’s felt lately with Barry or Caitlin or anyone else in his patchwork family.

Cisco has to heal him. Keep him safe and healthy and happy and here. Harry is one of the few stars keeping Cisco from collapsing in on himself.

“You make sure Lothario keeps his hands to himself,” Harry says, giving in. Cisco isn’t sure if Harry is referring to Lothario’s touch finding Cisco or Harry himself, but he smiles into the victory anyway.

-

Between Marlize's knowledge, Cisco not being drop kicked across the room every time he tries to vibe, and the Harrison’s sharply honed emotional profiling, Team Flash manages to puzzle out when and how DeVoe escapes Marlize’s force field. Anticipating his next move isn’t quite as smooth.

“He will try again,” Marlize assures them. “He wants nothing more than to rip the cord of humanity’s intelligence and rule over the masses. He will stop at nothing.”

Cisco captures a shred of vibe - barely anything, but enough that Marlize and the Harrison’s put together that Dr. Tina McGee is next on The Thinker’s hit list. Barry flashes her into the Cortex. Lothario hits on her. Marlize doesn’t meet her eyes. She gives Cisco and Caitlin a hug.

Keeping her brain power and satellites away from DeVoe is enough to feel like they’re really doing something. It sandpapers the helplessness, whittles it into a dullness that can be overlooked. Without Mercury Labs to bring about the enlightenment, DeVoe will turn his fury elsewhere.

They scramble to figure out where before DeVoe does.

-

Cisco forgot how smoothly Tina fit into the crooked mechanics of their team. She manages to distract Caitlin from her suicide mission to absorb her powers and the alter ego who wields them. As much as Cisco had adapted to working with Killer Frost, it’s a lighter joy to stand side by side with Caitlin and not wonder if Elsa will decide to step over the line from chaotic neutral to evil. He doesn't have Cindy to rescue him anymore after all.

The extra brain is the push Marlize and Caitlin need to begin real tests towards reversing the dark matter effects, to gain real results. Harry has been blossoming with the Harrison’s - the shadows of shame have stopped slumping his spine, stopped darkening his eyes quite so boldly - but Harry doesn’t attempt to hide his relief when he recalls a theory without a twitch of his tongue.

Cisco can admit he enjoys the Harrison’s more than the Wells. Can even say it out loud, right next to Harry, as they sit in Dave and Buster’s and watch the Harrison’s miss basket after basket. Lothario attempts to explain the physics behind miniature basketball, but gives it up in favor of beating both of them.

Harry leans against him. It makes Cisco breathe faster. It’s happiness, because Harry is more open with him now than ever. It’s relief, because weeks ago Harry was holding his most devastating secret in his chest, shredding himself from the inside out, and now that the bleeding has gone shallow, he’s allowed Cisco to see. It’s the honesty and the hurt and the intimacy Cisco has always craved. Maybe it’s not the right time, but Cisco gluts himself on it.

There are other, smaller changes the Harrison's inspire. Cisco guesses it's the Harrison's, anyway. Harry starts opening doors for Cisco, picking up in the lab, giving both of their orders at restaurants. Cisco starts to notice that Harry always knows what he wants to drink, always has it ready or is bringing it over before Cisco even asks, and realizes Harry has been making the gesture since Barry's disaster of a bachelor party. It's odd but sweet, intimate in a way Cisco welcomes. Cisco swallows back the warm flutter of embarrassment when Harry does it and doesn't tell Harry to stop.

If that's Harry's way of expressing friendship, Cisco won't turn it away.

-

There is a hangover trying valiantly to ooze over the aspirin Cisco coated himself in when the Harrison’s decided the team needed to go interdimensional bar hopping. He has a small pouch that hobbit Cisco slipped into his backpack, heady with the smell of Earth 13 Shire weed. He wasn’t going to touch it, accepted it as a souvenir more than anything, but morning has brought a cotton head and a lingering sense of grief not his own in his belly.

For as far as he and Cindy had fallen from each other, from as deeply out of sync they became, he can still vibe her across the universe. Sometimes he'll wake up to feelings not his own in his chest, or he'll look up in his workshop to hear something that isn't there. He still believes that means something. He just knows, now, that it doesn’t mean enough.

A knock at his door draws him from indulgence. It’s probably a good thing, he thinks, head throbbing; smoking up while DeVoe and a Council of Harrison’s is on the loose is a tempting idea, but not a good one.

Harry is standing straight and bow taut when he opens the door.

Cisco squints at him. “How are you here at - ” Cisco pulls his phone from his pocket and notes that he doesn’t have any missed calls or texts from Harry. Maybe he can talk to the Harrison’s about teaching Harry how to call before coming over. “ - nine am. It’s nine am, Harry. I’m barely up and I didn’t hit the hobbit hash pipe nearly as many times as you did.”

Harry speaks, seemingly unphased. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Okay.” Cisco rubs his eyes to confirm the vision in front of him is real. “It can’t wait?”

“I’ve been - ” Harry starts. He clears his throat.

Cisco, sleepy as he is, exhales slow and almost brushes his belly against Harry’s vibes. Nerves and something deep, forest old and dark, licks languid at Cisco, but Cisco slices it cold before he can decipher it. No vibing on Harry.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Harry finally says. He sways forward, then stops himself. “Can I come in?”

That slaps Cisco into more awareness. “Did you become a vampire overnight? Since when do you ask permission to come into my apartment? Or do anything?”

Harry’s stare is flat.

Cisco sighs and moves to his side, ushering Harry in. He closes the door with a soft click.

“I broke my promise to you,” Harry rushes as soon as Cisco faces him.

Cisco blinks. Apparently the apology is starting, rushing from go, no time to collect $200 or a cup of coffee. Cisco sweeps his hair back, removing hair from his vision so he can witness this train wreck clearly. For a moment Harry stutters to a stop. His eyes track some invisible point of interest on Cisco’s face. Cisco wonders if he has drool on his mouth. Harry continues before he can ask.

“I knew you were right. About the dark matter. I knew it would fuck me up, no matter how many calculations said it wouldn't, because my calculations are never as accurate as you. And I broke my promise anyway.”

Cisco’s knees buckle. He doesn’t know if it’s the earnest wet in Harry’s eyes, or the way his hands move as if he can’t contain his regret or sincerity, or the sputter in Harry’s voice. But something in the oil slickness of Harry in front of him, saying things Cisco has only played Harry saying in his own mental lifetime movie, makes Cisco wish he was sitting down.

“Harry - ”

“Let,” Harry says. He takes a step back. Closes his eyes. “Let me say this, Cisco. Please.”

Cisco can’t respond to that with anything other than a nod.

“I lied to you,” Harry continues, all sandpaper gruff and aching. “And I betrayed you. I - I pushed you. Pushed you into helping me, into doing something you didn’t want, and then I - then I really pushed you. I should have - there’s no excuse for it. I’ve tried to reason it out but there’s nothing, Cisco, I should’ve never put my hands on you - ”

“I know, Harry,” Cisco says, because he can’t hear Harry describe it.

The violence is still rolling across Cisco’s skin. It’s been four years since the first man who wore Harrison Wells face gripped his heart in a shaking fist, but Cisco can still vibe it. Still dream about it and find it hard to breathe when he wakes up. As much as he knows what Harry did was a mistake, as much as it has softened into a brush of grass on skin, Harry’s angry touch is still a finger against his bruises.

Harry’s fingers curl into his palms. Cisco breathes around his fists. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, Harry.”

An odd, heavy silence yawns between them. Harry won’t look at him, even when he chokes back the humid silence and speaks.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

There’s something careful in Harry’s choice of words. Cisco’s skin rolls under it, not unpleasantly, but Cisco doesn’t unpack it.

“I’m not.”

Harry still doesn’t look at him. “The Harrison’s. The other ones. They have a theory about why I didn’t listen to you, even though I believed you.”

“What’s their theory?”

“That I didn’t care.”

Cisco flinches. Harry makes a distressed, rough sound, stepping forward.

“Not that I didn’t care about you, or what you were saying. I didn’t care about me. They think I felt - that I feel… I don’t know. Guilty, that you care so much about me. Or that I have to constantly re-earn that care. That I put myself on the line to prove I was worthy of you not wanting me to do that.”

The explanation doesn’t soothe the cut. It only makes Cisco’s skin feel more open, loose and raw and throbbing.

“Is that,” Cisco begins, startled at how bloody his voice sounds. “Is that what you think? You were willing to destroy yourself to prove you were worthy of being on our team?”

Harry doesn’t miss a beat. “I was willing to destroy myself so I didn’t have to watch you be hurt. If I had to tear my brain apart to save you from DeVoe, then it wasn’t even a question.”

“It wasn’t just your brain,” Cisco says, chest pressing against his heart. The walls are moving in. His head feels as empty as the rest of his body. All of his Harry shaped pain is the only thing keeping him upright. “It was - Harry. It was your soul.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “My soul,” he repeats, huffing. But he shakes the cynic away and when he speaks next, he’s looking Cisco in the eye. “Call it what you want. My soul for your life. I thought it was more than a fair trade.”

“Well that decision wasn’t yours to make.” Cisco’s voice rises as the nails in his feet drag him across the floor. He’s a breath away from Harry’s breath. “We’re a team, Harry, a family, and we make decisions as a family. We decided we weren’t going to sacrifice anyone. What were we supposed to do without you? What was I - ”

Heat stabs at Cisco’s eyes. He won’t cry, not over Harry, not again. Instead he punches Harry in the arm. It’s as weak as he is, as embarrassing.

Harry doesn't even flinch. “Ramon.”

“We’ve lost enough people, Harry. I’ve lost enough people. And you don’t get to take anyone else away from me or from the team. Okay?”

When Harry doesn’t answer, Cisco punches him again.

“Okay?” he repeats.

“Jesus, Ramon,” Harry says, rubbing his arm. It can’t possibly hurt. “Okay.”

“And you’re not allowed to lie to us anymore.”

“Okay.”

“And you have to bring me Big Belly Burger everyday.” Cisco rethinks it as soon as he says it. “Or at least three days a week.”

Harry, still holding his arm, smiles. It's water weak. “Okay. Everyday.”

“It doesn’t really have to be everyday. Just as long as you remember the team loves you. You’re not allowed to destroy yourself until we don’t.” Cisco feels lighter saying it. Harry has apologized before, but not so holistically. Not with such devastation. As much as Cisco has been aching for it, he's eager for them both to crawl to steadier ground. 

Harry seems to be on the same page. “I can do four times a week,” Harry says. He looks at his own watch. “Including today. If you want breakfast.”

Cisco almost groans. He can practically smell a number 11, the sausage chicken biscuit smothered in hash browns and gravy. “A big nasty sounds so fucking good right now.”

Harry swallows. “It.” He coughs. Cisco almost reaches out to pat his shoulders, but Harry shakes his head. “Yes. Yeah, no, it does sound good right now.”

“Just let me put on real pants.” Cisco heads towards his bedroom before Harry can respond. “You wanna call the Harrison’s or Joecile?”

“I was thinking it could just be us this morning,” Harry calls back.

“Cool,” Cisco says, fingers fluttering of their own accord. “Just Harry and Cisco. Wells-Ramon. Dream team bonding.”

When he comes out of his bedroom, clad in jeans and a clean shirt, curls combed, Harry stands from the couch.

“Want me to drive?” Cisco asks, breach already swirling around his fist.

“Yes,” Harry says, but he jingles the van keys.

Cisco grins. Harry never lets him drive. He reaches for the keys, but Harry dangles them, evil giant that he is. Cisco frowns. Before he can tell Harry that this is not a great way to show he’s changed for the better and that Cisco takes back any semblance of forgiveness, Harry reaches for him with the hand not holding the keys.

“I need you to understand something, Cisco." The steel on his face leaves Cisco no option to do anything but listen. "I do care about the team. All of them - they are my family. But the dark matter. The risks I took.” Harry exhales. He stares at his hand, spread sky wide and enveloping over Cisco’s arm. “I did it for you. Because I couldn’t lose you.”

Then Harry presses the keys to Cisco’s outstretched palm.

“Come on, Ramon,” he says, leaving Cisco to shake and stare at the skin warm metal in his hand. “Let’s hit it before the ten o’clock rush.”

Cisco nearly trips over his own feet, but he follows Harry out the door.

-

It’s Harry, actually, with gentle prodding from the Harrison’s, who realizes DeVoe’s next target will be ARGUS. Cisco’s brain is too scrambled from Harry’s apology, from Harry’s fingers brushing his clavicle as Harry told him _I did it for you_ , to be much help.

Cisco is confused, at first. Then pissed, because Harry is a manipulative dick at the best of times, but if Harry’s apology hinges on Cisco’s guilt of being the reason Harry fried his brain, then Cisco is going to breach him to a volcano planet.

But as Cisco watches Harry, feels Harry’s careful heat through palms on his t-shirt, sees Harry smile easier and fuller and give more of himself than he ever has, Cisco feels it for the thing it is. Cisco can’t fault Harry for his messiness. Harry is six feet of sharp edges and deep love and disasters. His apology was earnest. He was sorry.

It’s enough. Cisco really does mean as much to Harry as he knew he did, and neither of them had to die or step into the speedforce or kill anyone to prove it. The sureness of it makes Cisco breathe easier as they plan to take on DeVoe again.

-

They're more prepared than they've ever been to take on DeVoe. He's less prepared. None of them pretend the latter isn't the reason they beat him this time.

DeVoe still gets away, but the only injuries Barry and Cisco sport are on their egos. Caitlin looks them both over anyway.

While Barry is enduring his check up, Cisco finds Marlize in his workshop. His and Harry's, really; he hasn't been truly alone in it since Harry stormed this Earth. It's comforting.

Cisco approaches her, aiming for ridiculous to ease the lingering tension. She can say The Thinker is no longer her husband all she wants, but Cisco knows what it is to look into the eyes of a killer and only see family reflected back.

“I'm thinking about hanging one of those abandon all hope, ye who enter here signs on my door. Harry thinks it's a little much, but I - Marlize?”

He hadn't heard anything while walking up to her, but now, within distance of her perfume, he hears her crying.

He hesitates. “Do you want me to come back?”

Marlize inhales a soft, broken breath before turning in Cisco's chair. Her eyes are red rimmed. She looks so, so tired.

“I didn't think it would hurt so much to see him hurt,” she says.

It's almost enough to make Cisco feel guilty for the vibrational blasts he landed on DeVoe. One flicker of Cindy gasping in DeVoe's grasp, of Ralph's face, kills the seed of it.

“Don't,” she tells him. “You did what you needed to do. And you didn't kill him. Even after all he's - all we've done to you.”

“Yeah, well. Killing's not really our MO.”

She wipes wet from her upper cheek. It doesn't take much effort for her to regain the poise that vibes so steady around her, despite the red of her face.

“Are you gonna be okay? You can talk to me, if you want. I don't know what it's like to have a husband that goes dark side, but I do have a wide array of experiences of watching loved ones go psycho meta that I can pull from.”

Marlize watches him. At first he thinks she’s going to ask for space, and it rubs raw against his ribs, the idea that yet another woman in his life is going to pull away from him. But then she scoots the chair forward.

“What did it feel like,” she says, folding her hands on the table. “When you realized your Harrison had betrayed you all?”

Cisco inhales on the punch. He answers honestly, because he has no reason not to. Harry is the only other person who he thinks would listen, and Harry is the only person he can’t say this to. It would hurt him too much.

“Like my heart stopped,” Cisco says. He looks at Marlize’s hands and has the urge to reach for her. To share the pain. He leans over the table for support. “Like he reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until it stopped.”

He closes his eyes, forcing his focus on the smell of his workshop, the whir of laptops and Marlize’s breathing, the feeling of his Vibe suit against his skin. It anchors him in the moment and keeps him from slipping back into memory.

Cool fingers settle over his own. When he opens his eyes, Marlize’s hands are holding his.

“And yet you survived,” Marlize says.

Cisco nods. “You will, too. You are.”

Her thumb rubs against him before she pulls away. “You are a good man, Cisco. I’m not certain your Harrison deserves you.”

He opens his mouth, prepared to finally say out loud that Harry doesn’t belong to him, but Marlize’s gaze drifts to the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Marlize says.

Cisco looks over his shoulder to see Harry, long and lean and frowning in the doorframe. He taps his watch expectantly, and Cisco remembers they - plus the Harrison's - had plans to celebrate at his favorite E-17 soulfood spot if DeVoe didn't kill them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Harry says, clearly not.

The Harrison's haven't had any better luck encouraging Harry to embrace the politeness of appearances, but when Cisco thinks about it, he'd be disappointed if they had. There's something in Harry's easy rudeness that makes Cisco have to thin back a grin. Cisco isn't sure when it became endearing.

“Everyone's waiting, Ramon. We're being inconsiderate.”

“And everyone knows that's totally off brand for you,” Cisco teases, rolling his eyes.

He smiles at Marlize, the appearance of rueful, but he's grateful to Harry for unapologetically shaking the moment. For Harry being fundamentally the same man who throws markers and told him modesty was unbecoming and sputters in ridiculous melodrama. For Harry still treating him and making him feel the same as always, despite everything that has changed.

“I don't have to go,” Cisco offers, in case Marlize does need him.

As much as he'd like to eat, drink, and merry the night away, she's helped the team. She's helped Harry. Cisco is willing to comfort her.

She shakes her head.

“You should go. Rest, as much as you can with those men. I'll be fine.”

Cisco believes her. He squeezes her hands one last time.

-

Harry leads Cisco to the Cortex, where the Harrison's are apparently waiting. He's silent. His shoulders are tense.

“Hey,” Cisco says. He has to half jog to catch Harry's shoulder in a gentle touch. “Where's the fire, Harry? What's wrong?”

Harry crosses his arms. “I know she helped me. I haven't had any - glitches - in days thanks to her and Snow and McGee. And she helped you vibe again. And she's helping the team - ”

“But you still don't trust her.”

“Not with you,” Harry says quietly. As if he doesn't mean to. He shifts in place as soon as he does. “I know you can take care of yourself. You have excellent intuition. But you - never mind.”

Cisco reaches for Harry as he tries to walk past, pulling him back by the arm until they're facing each other, closer this time. Harry stares down at him, expression open.

“But what?”

“You tend - you forgive, too easy. I don't want you to forget what she did to you and become her emotional support Ramon.”

Cisco tilts his head. Harry's eyes follow the sweep of his hair. Odd, but Cisco ignores it. Harry's eyes are so much sharper these days.

“Is it just Marlize you think I've forgiven too easily?”

Harry looks away.

“I know there's a risk, letting her in. But I think it's worth it.”

Cisco is going to reach up, hold Harry's arms in his palms, his instinctive urge to anchor Harry in place, show that Cisco has him. Something draws Cisco's gaze to Harry's shaking hands. The sight trembles in Cisco, shuddering the sharp of his spine, and Cisco takes Harry's fingers in his as easily as Marlize did with him.

Harry swallows, startled, and it's half amusing to see him stare at Cisco's hands as though he's never watched them tear a slice in the universe.

“You're worth it, Harry.”

“I'm not,” Harry starts, but Cisco squeezes his hands. Harry stops, eyes closing. He applies pressure back. “I'm glad you think I am, Ramon.”

Cisco rubs his thumb over Harry's knuckles before releasing him. Harry's eyes stay closed a second longer before he opens them again.

“Come on,” Cisco says. “We better get to the Harrison's. We don't want to be inconsiderate, right?”

-

A few nights later and it's Harry's turn to pick where he's going to learn to be the best Harry he can be without his intelligence. The assignments haven't changed since he regained it. Cisco knows he wanted them to; wanted to give up trying to learn his worth without everything he knew, terrified he would cut and peel and burn away his layers to find nothing there.

He still can't see the progress he's made, keeps making, but he has Cisco to remind him.

Harry chooses a shelter on Earth 3, where none of them wear the face of wanted criminals. They read to kids - Harry and the Harrison's do, anyway. Cisco and Lothario listen while sisters braid their hair.

Afterwards, Harry tells him the braid is nice. Cisco ducks his head.

He notices, later, Lothario pulling Harry to the side, whispering _I told you so_ and gesturing in Cisco's direction. Cisco isn't sure what it means and assumes the increase in Harry's compliments to his hair and wardrobe are purely coincidental.

He does start to wear his hair in the braid more often. It's practical, keeping pieces out of his face and his curls tight. Harry says it looks good every time.

-

It's an accident that Cisco vibes DeVoe at the old military base. The equipment there is no longer working, so they never thought to check it. Marlize thinks it's a last resort. That The Thinker is getting desperate.

Defeating him suddenly seems possible again. If they can just make the right moves. If they can just think it through.

Iris and Marlize push themselves past the point of exhaustion, planning and plotting and running different scenarios. Harry lends his military expertise and Cisco vibes possibilities.

There comes a point where reality starts to blur, though. The morning Iris comes in, blue black tired pressed under her eyes, thinking they've already beaten DeVoe, Cisco declares they all need a night off.

Harry is the first one to agree.

Marlize is the first one to say she’ll stay behind, keep working. As much as they all pretend she’s just another member of the team, clinging to the illusion to soften the barbed wire of her presence, they’re all glad for the offer to not join them during family bonding. The relief lasts all of five seconds before Cisco and Iris are sharing a Look.

They trust that Marlize hates The Thinker enough to do what’s needed to defeat him. Cisco isn’t sure they can trust her enough to leave her alone in the labs.

Caitlin offers to stay. It doesn’t reassure Cisco, really. Not because he doesn’t trust that Caitlin has the best interests of the team at heart. But he can’t pretend he hasn’t noticed her still straying to bringing Killer Frost back. He doesn’t know what it means, but he can't shake the idea that Marlize and Caitlin, alone to their own devices, won't usher in some sort of disaster.

Then fate steps in. Tina calls, citing the inability to go back to what passes for normal in this city, saying she wants to continue to help. Barry declares STAR Labs in good hands.

-

Barry doesn’t pick the club this time. Cecile gives them a suggestion straight from her daughter. They don’t realize it’s a jazz and gin bar until they’ve all paid their cover and snuck Harry’s baseball hat past the bouncer.

It’s not lame, exactly, but it’s not their scene. The only one who enjoys it is Harry. He taps his fingers to the music and helps them all pick a drink. Cisco tells Harry to surprise him with his.

Cisco goes with Harry to the bar. He waits while Harry excuses himself. The beat of the music is stuttering, but Cisco does what Harry tells him to and closes his eyes, trying to find the balm that Harry promises is there.

When Cisco opens his eyes, a cascade of dark, soft curls is shining in front of him. His lungs flood. Regret and want and confusion. He moves without thinking. Hand outstretched, stomach cold, unsure if he’s gasping around need or joy or anger at too little too late.

“Cynthia,” he says, sliding moth like from the bar stool to the cool promise of leather. “What are you - ”

When his hand closes around her shoulder, he realizes his mistake.

The woman turns at his touch. He vibes her annoyance, a tremble of fear at unknown fingers, and he quickly cradles his hand to his chest. Shame and embarrassment thump at his skull.

A smile brightens the woman’s pink lips when she finally sees him. Her displeasure rolls slowly into interest.

“Sorry,” Cisco says. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

She tilts her head, hair falling with the movement. There’s a dandelion smatter of freckles on her cheeks. She’s beautiful, smile sweet, teeth sharp behind it. No wonder he mistook her for Cindy, he thinks, and sways.

“Well then I’m sorry too,” she says, smooth. “This Cynthia must be a lucky woman.”

He doesn’t know how to respond. Instead of sputtering at her, attempting to salvage any semblance of dignity, he turns and hurries to the men’s room.

Harry meets him coming out.

“Ramon,” Harry says, hands coming to grip his shoulders as if on instinct. “Are you okay? Did you see something? You look like you saw something. Is DeVoe - ”

“Cynthia,” is all Cisco can manage.

He hasn’t seen her since they broke each other’s hearts. They still randomly fall in sync, although he's been vibing her less and less. It still takes everything in him not to breach through the multiverse when he feels her adrenaline spike or her aches, so close to his own they mingle and rub his ribs sharp.

Harry guides him to the wall, pressing until Cisco can find stability between cold tile and warm palms.

“Is she okay?” Harry asks quietly.

Cisco nods. “She’s fine. I mean, I think. I haven’t vibed anything differently. I just thought I saw her.” He realizes how ridiculous it is as soon as he says it out lourd. Laughing, he lets his head fall back against the wall.

“But it wasn’t her?”

“Of course it wasn’t.” Cisco peers over his cheekbones, catching Harry’s gaze locked on his throat. When Cisco swallows, Harry does too. Cisco’s head throbs. He hasn’t even had a drink yet. The warmth on his cheeks and burn in his chest makes no sense.

“She didn’t come here even when we were together,” Cisco says, distracting himself from the tremble in his gut. “Why would she be here now?”

Harry frowns. “Ramon - ”

“I can’t,” Cisco says, because he can’t. Every staple he’s managed to push into himself is shuddering loose. He feels himself falling apart all over again and wonders if he ever actually scraped it back together. There’s been enough distractions. He could’ve been bleeding out all these weeks and not even noticed.

“You don’t have to,” Harry answers, nonsensical, but it feels good to hear all the same. “Do you want to leave?”

“Yes. I’ll just breach home. Don’t worry about me.”

Harry hesitates. Then his thumbs trace gentle chills over Cisco’s collar bones. It’s meant to soothe Cisco, he knows it, but it doesn’t ease the break beat of his heart. If anything his breathing buzzes even louder.

“If you want to be alone,” Harry says. He doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps sweeping that soft touch over Cisco, somehow touching more than his skin.

Cisco bites his lip. “No,” he admits, realizing it’s the truth when Harry’s thumbs stop. “No. I don’t want to be alone.”

Harry says goodbye to everyone for them. When Cisco opens a breach to his apartment, they step through together.

-

“She said I made her feel like the only woman in the universe,” Cisco is saying over a just opened beer. Harry is on the couch beside him, stiff, nursing his own glass. “But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough for her.”

“Ramon.” Harry puts his drink on the table. He gentles Cisco’s own bottle away from him. Cisco pouts at the loss, petulant, but he doesn’t fight it. Harry cups his shoulder once he’s put both beers down. “Cisco.”

“I’ve never been enough.” Cisco wishes he was drunk as he says it. At least then he’d have an excuse to be slurring all of his weakness over Harry’s good friend shoulder. He sinks into the couch.

“That’s not true. You have to know it’s not. You’re - you are much more than enough.”

Cisco presses his knuckles to his eyes. There’s a beat, heavy and awkward, and Cisco can’t believe he’s dragging the night to hell and doing it sober. He’s going to tell Harry to just go back to the bar when Harry slides his arm around Cisco completely.

“You’re more than enough,” Harry repeats.

Humiliated even as he does it, Cisco melts into the touch. The last person who touched him as fully was Barry. Cisco tries not to think about how depressing that is, how lonely his skin has been, and gives in to the warmth of Harry at his side. He rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, top of his head pressed to Harry’s neck.

Harry freezes. Before Cisco can pull away, apology for spewing self pity and deflating weak against Harry’s offerings, Harry rubs comfort against him.

“Not enough to make her stay,” Cisco murmurs into Harry’s shirt.

Fingers slide into his hair. Slow and hesitant, like Harry is waiting for Cisco to push him away. Instead, Cisco presses closer. He’s taking advantage of Harry’s pity, and it’s sick, he knows it, but his skin feels liquid under Harry’s hands. He hasn’t been held in so long. It’s warm, this close to Harry’s body, to Harry’s scent, and the tension in his muscles drains like a fever from his wounds.

Cisco’s left arm is twisted awkwardly at Harry’s side, and his right one lays limp on his own leg. He shifts, smoothing the angle of his wrist by sliding his hand behind Harry’s back, palm pressed to Harry’s spine. His other hand itches to slide across Harry’s ribs. Complete the circle, hold Harry back, but it’s too much. Somewhere in Cisco’s head, he’s aware it’s too much.

“I didn’t even ask her to leave the agency,” Cisco says, unable to stop himself from bleeding over Harry’s skin. “I knew she’d say no if I asked. I just wanted her to stay, you know. I wanted her to stay with me.”

“You’re worth more than some interdimensional bounty hunters,” Harry says sharply.

“Apparently not.”

Harry’s grip tightens. “I don’t know why she made the decision she did. Okay, I - you gave her everything, and if she couldn’t turn away from that fucked up job of hers, then she didn’t deserve you anyway.”

Cisco laughs into Harry’s neck, giving in. He brings his right hand to rest light over Harry’s sternum. Harry’s breath flutters against his palm.

“Did Lothario tell you to say that?” Cisco asks, tilting back so he can peer at Harry. The pink he sees on Harry’s cheeks must be a trick of his own exhaustion.

“No,” Harry says. He peers at Cisco, fingers halting against Cisco’s scalp. When he looks away, he resumes running his nails along Cisco’s skin, petting through his hair. Cisco eases back into the crook of his neck. “Maybe.”

Cisco smiles.

“He’s been trying to council me on how to - be a good friend to you, through this. How to comfort you. All of the Harrison’s have, actually.”

“God. I’m a little afraid to ask what Lothario’s advice was.” Cisco thinks back to that first call from Lothario, the lilting offer to show Cisco all the pleasures of his earth so they could both forget their aching egos.

“You should be,” Harry says.

Cisco sinks deeper into Harry’s touch. The fingers through his hair alight calm through his entire body. Peace laps at Cisco’s skin, lulling him even further against Harry’s neck.

“What about the rest of the council?” Cisco asks. Talk of the Harrison’s and of Lothario, slick as he is, has coaxed Cisco off the thorn bush path of self pity. He'd rather not stumble back onto it. “What was their advice on how to comfort your bro?”

The hair pets halt. Disappointment coaxes Cisco’s head up again.

Harry is watching him, eyes narrowed. Every wrinkle cuts across his skin. Cisco wants to smooth them.

“They’re not much better than Lothario,” Harry admits.

It’s a whisper, at war with the steel in his gaze and a sudden undercurrent of needles. Cisco’s skin feels fuzzy, pin pricked, and he tongues at his dry cheek. Harry licks his lips, and it’s odd, because Cisco can’t recall the gesture. Cisco is so caught up in the uncharacteristic flick of pink that he nearly misses Harry bringing the hand not around his shoulder to his cheek.

Harry’s fingers feather over his jaw. The nudge is simple, a blink in the universe. Cisco would miss it if he wasn’t paying attention. He takes a deep breath, assuming the touch will be gone when he exhales. It’s not.

“They said I should. That you needed.” Harry’s palm cups his jaw line, thumbnail kissing Cisco’s cheekbone. “They told me to show you that you weren’t alone. That you were wanted.”

Cisco feels his own lips part. He watches for his breath to crystalize, to match the frost that’s coated his stomach and throat, but the only thing that happens is Harry’s gaze roams from Cisco’s cheek to his mouth.

The angle of the room tilts back. Cisco feels everything, feels himself, slide. Some tectonic plate breaks under their feet. He doesn’t know where it is, how it shatters, but it matches the shudder in his belly.

“Harry?” His voice sounds far away. He feels far away, detached from his bones, and he’s watching someone shaped like him watch someone shaped like Harry.

“It wasn’t you,” Harry says. The rough pad of his thumb presses to the side of Cisco’s lips. Not touching his mouth, but close, and thunder lights Cisco up. His veins spark electric hot. His thighs twitch, pulling taut, and his dick gives a hungry throb.

“Harry,” he says again, throat sliced thin as a butterfly knife. His brain is scrambling to jam the pieces of the picture together. He can’t. What is he doing, what is Harry doing, what is his stupid need lust doing -

Harry’s thumb settles on his bottom lip and they both inhale. A battle blooms behind Cisco’s eyes and he isn’t sure if he should fight Harry’s touch or surrender. He isn’t sure what it means.

When Cisco tries to speak, Harry presses his thumbnail against Cisco’s lip.

“They told me to make you feel better,” Harry breathes. “To make you feel good. And I’ve - I want to. I’ve been trying.”

Cisco knows. He wants to tell Harry he knows, and that Harry’s been doing a good job, helping him feel normal and sure and important. He wants to tell Harry he doesn’t need to do anything else.

But Harry pulls him closer, and the hand on his shoulder slides to the base of Cisco’s skull as Harry’s fingers twist in his hair again, and suddenly Cisco doesn’t know what he wants.

“I can,” Harry tells him, earnest. He rests their foreheads together. “I can show you - make you feel better. Make you feel good.”

Then Harry’s thumb sweeps petal soft to his chin. “Let me.” Harry’s lips hover over his. “Let me show you, Cisco.”

Cisco is going to tell Harry that this isn’t what he needs. A pity make out isn’t going to soothe his reopened wounds. Cisco doesn’t want that. Cisco doesn’t -

“Let me,” Harry says again, and kisses him.

Cisco’s fingers curl into Harry’s shirt. He feels Harry’s stomach tremble under his palm. His nostrils flare as he breathes out against Harry’s lips, dry but liquor warm against his.

He presses back - on instinct. He thinks it’s on instinct. He’s going to pull away but Harry spills a noise into his mouth. Cisco swallows it whole.

Harry’s touch is still gentle, still earth warm, but the added pressure of his kiss has Cisco’s jaw sliding loose. It’s enough to spread himself wide for whatever Harry thinks he needs. Harry’s tongue flattens easy along Cisco’s bottom lip.

Cisco groans. He can’t help it, can’t stop it. The kiss is so wet, and soft, and all Cisco can think is pinkhotgood. It’s deep, like Harry is lapping at every one of his exposed sockets. Cisco clings to Harry, fingernails scraping against Harry’s chest, and his own tongue unfurls, slurring into Harry’s wide open heat.

The fingers not flower heavy on Cisco’s cheek pull at Cisco’s hair. Not hard, not enough to do anything but yank at Cisco’s remaining tension and coax it soft. It’s also enough to angle Cisco’s head back, tipping his mouth messily wider. Harry fills the new open, aching spaces with his tongue.

Cisco can’t breathe. He doesn’t want to. He wants Harry to slide on top of him as slick and deep as Harry is kissing him. He wants Harry to -

Harry makes another noise. It’s an echo of Cisco’s sudden desperation. Every needy thing in Cisco’s skull comes through Harry’s touch, through Harry’s tongue tangling wet with his own. Cisco folds himself more darkly into Harry’s body, so close not even a shadow lingers between them.

Cisco’s cheeks thrum red. They throb in time with the ache between his legs. He wonders if Harry can feel it, the insistent heat, the dumbstruck desperation. If Harry can smell the need slicking his skin. If Harry can taste Cisco’s amber and slippery hot hurts.

The touch on Cisco’s cheek slides. Harry moves slow, dragging his fingertips over Cisco’s pulse, over his collar, halting at Cisco’s fluttering ribs. It’s enough to make Cisco realize what they’re doing.

He slides away from Harry’s mouth with a pop. “Harry,” he pants again. “Wait.”

Harry stops. It’s immediate. The fingers wiring electricity under his skin leave him at the same time Harry’s mouth does. It freezes Cisco cold.

“Sorry.” Harry’s voice is kiss rough. “I’m sorry. I thought you - I shouldn’t have done that, but I thought. Cisco. I’m sorry - ”

“I don’t want a pity fuck,” Cisco breathes. Sand scrapes his throat raw and dry. It could be shame. Cisco realizes he still hasn’t let go of Harry’s shirt. He snatches his hand back and scoots to the end of the couch.

Fuck. What did he just let happen. What did he just do.

“A pity - ” Harry repeats. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Is that what you think this is?”

Cisco looks from the floor to Harry, synapses flaring bright at Harry’s bitten red mouth.

“Isn’t that what you just said? You wanted to make me feel better?”

“I - yes. I did say that. But I didn’t mean it like that.”

Cisco frowns. His dick hasn’t quite gotten the message that he isn’t going to slip back by Harry’s side, isn’t going to slide into Harry’s lap and lick into Harry’s mouth again. He wants to reach for a pillow or breach himself across the universe, cover his humiliation with an entire earth, hide his face and salted cuts. Harry is watching him too closely, pinning Cisco specimen still.

“How did you mean it, then?” Cisco asks. He isn’t quite sure he wants the answer.

Harry’s mouth works, open and shut. It’s hilarious, in an abstract way. There’s nothing fun about watching Harry’s speechless flapping. He looks blue, gasping for oxygen, like he can’t manage to take a breath.

“I - I meant it. As in. Like.” Harry rubs his hands along his own thighs. Cisco wonders how those muscles would feel under his hands. His tongue. “Come on, Cisco. You can vibe it. Don’t make me say it.”

Cisco twists his own hands over his knees. “I can’t - I could, I mean, but I don’t. You know I don’t vibe you, right?”

“I don’t know that,” Harry says. “I don’t - of course I don’t know what. Why wouldn’t you? Why don’t you?”

“You told me not to,” Cisco answers simply.

Harry laughs. There's no humor in it, or brightness. Cisco watches him dig his elbows into his knees and cup his face in his hands and thinks about how sturdy it felt to have those hands on him.

“Harry, I - ”

“You really don't know,” Harry says to the carpet. “All this time I thought you were - letting me down easy, or you weren't sure, or it was just bad timing. I never thought you didn't know.”

“Know what?” Cisco asks, even as the pieces click semi automatic in his head. All of Harry's touches lately, the door opening, the drink getting, the staying when Cisco asked -

Cisco looks at Harry and cuts open the wire between Harry's vibes and his own powers. He feels it instantly. Every daydream and bruise and black hole of what if’s he’s ignores in himself is reflected back at him. Even more. It's too much longing for one body to handle and Cisco wraps his arms around himself, grasping for an anchor as his heart beats through his throat.

Cisco doesn't know where to go from here or how to get there. His lips still buzz. His stomach is still rolling pleasant and warm. His head is a mess of signals and he wants time to sort them, lay them out neatly and label them clear, but he also wants to roll sloth like in the disaster and slot his mouth against Harry's again.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Harry asks.

No, Cisco almost says, then yes. If Harry can't even say I love you then how can he do it? But Cisco thinks about Harry's voice when he told Cisco not to be modest and Harry's apology and how all but once, Harry hasn't left when Cisco asked him not to.

“You don't have to,” Cisco tells him quietly.

“Could you ever - do you think you could ever - ”

The meta alert shrills in Cisco’s ear. He doesn’t remember programming it to be so loud or grating. Wincing, he hits the button on his watch to stop the alarm.

“Wasn’t Allen supposed to be designated superhero tonight?”

He was, but the distraction calls to Cisco, siren like. His thoughts freight train toward the possibility of a fight. Metas he knows. Metas he can take and fire against and stop. This kiss flushed Harry, watching Cisco with bottomless need, is something Cisco has never faced.

In the time it takes to think, Barry has apparently already reached the meta and been taken down. Cisco’s watch lights up with a voicemail - Cisco doesn’t even know where his phone is - and Barry’s voice is cracking for him to get to Jitters as soon as possible.

Cisco glances at Harry, who sighs back into the couch.

“Go.”

“I’ll be right back. You should stay. And we can keep - doing whatever we were doing when I get back. Okay?”

Harry nods, stiff. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

-

The meta is a mix of Killer Frost and Weather Wizard. Cisco tries to mash up the name in his head, but the kid summons a snowstorm above him, and hitting her with a blast to keep her still takes priority.

When they’ve handed her over to CCPD, when Barry’s checked 300 times to see if Cisco is really okay, Cisco breaches home to find Harry asleep on the couch. Fondness swirls through Cisco’s tired head.

He collapses next to Harry. It wakes Harry up enough for him to grumble. Cisco assures him he’s okay and leans his head on Harry’s shoulder, familiar now. He tells Harry to close his eyes.

They fall asleep, together.

-

The next morning doesn’t leave much time for discussions of Feelings. Iris calls them all in early. Harry and Cisco stumble in, side by side, and only Iris raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t call any attention to it.

Marlize and Tina present all of their work from the night before. They need Cisco to vibe to confirm it, but they’re sure they know DeVoe’s next move.

And they do. Cisco sees it, clear as the confusion in his own chest: DeVoe, finally pulling all the old military satellites together, using them to broadcast his enlightenment. The finality of it pushes Cisco and he finds himself held up by Harry’s arms when he comes back from the vibe.

Cisco smiles at him, grateful. Harry’s hands squeeze his elbows, lingering, before Harry pulls away, and Cisco wonders how he didn’t know. Even without his powers, he should have known how Harry felt. He should have taken the time to see his own feelings for what they were.

“What did you see, Cisco?” Barry asks.

Cisco looks away from Harry to Marlize. She is watching him, expectant. Ready to hear how they defeat the man she loved once and for all.

“You were right. He is going to use the satellites, but he’s closer to getting them online than you thought.”

“Cisco,” Iris says. “How much time do we have?”

“Tonight. He’s going to make his move tonight. Time on his watch said 7:48.”

“That’s less than 12 hours,” Iris says.

“It’s enough,” Barry assures her. All of them. “Guys. We can do it this time. I know we can.”

-

Harry helps Cisco zip up his Vibe jacket. He goes over the list of gear, touching every piece, reassuring himself that Cisco is as protected as he can be. Cisco takes Harry’s wrists in his hands, halting him.

“I’m going to be okay,” Cisco promises, even though neither of them can really be sure. He can see the future and he can’t be sure. “Chill, Harry.”

“You don’t know that. I just want you to be careful, Ramon.” Harry stares at Cisco’s hands on his skin.

Instead of releasing Harry, Cisco slides his touch down, curling his fingers with Harry’s own. Harry lets him, gripping back as if they do this everyday.

“We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk about last night,” Cisco says, staring at the contrast of their hands. “I know right before a life or death fight isn’t usually the best time to have a heart to heart.”

Harry scoffs. His thumbs trace random patterns on the backs of Cisco’s hands. “Sometimes it’s the only time.”

Cisco raises his eyebrows. “You really wanna talk about our feelings now?”

“I was actually hoping you could just vibe it out of me then we could kiss again.”

Cisco squeezes his hands. “Don’t be a jackwagon,” he says, but he can’t bite back his grin.

“The basis of your appeal lies in the fact that I never have to talk to you about my feelings. You’ll just know.”

“Mmm,” Cisco hums. He tilts his head, watching Harry’s gaze flit anywhere but his own. “And here I thought it was just the hair.”

“That’s certainly a contributing factor.”

“Harry.” With a final grasp, Cisco releases Harry’s hands, only to grip his arms. “I really do think we should talk about this. When we have more time and don’t have the impending doom of the world hanging above our heads. But before I go out there, I just want you to know.”

“Ramon. You don’t have to - ”

“It’s not just you,” Cisco says in a rush. “I don’t know what we - both of us have a lot to work on. So whatever happens, it’s going to be slow. I'm not ready to jump into another relationship, and you have your stuff, and we both - just. Have stuff. But we can work on it together. Because whatever's gonna happen, I want it. I want it to happen, Harry.”

This time, he kisses Harry first. It’s chaste, comparatively, leaving Cisco more breathless than aching. When he pulls away, when he finally opens his eyes after savoring the warm wet for a few more moments, Harry is watching him. Harry stares at his mouth before pulling him into a tight, suffocating hug. Cisco returns it easily.

“I’ll come back to you. The same way you always come back to me. I promise.”

-

Cisco keeps his promise. Harry keeps his, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated! you can also yell with me about harrisco at tumblr.com/aquaexplicit.


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